


The Red Bow

by Natashasolten



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain image keeps teasing Vinnie in cruel and wondrous ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Bow

 

The silver mirror on the closet door showed him dressed impeccably in a fifteen hundred dollar silk Armani suit with a starch white shirt and an ocean blue tie. In the left breast pocket a triangle of blue peeked out, a waste of silk actually. Vinnie never used handkerchiefs. But it was there because everything was perfect. He had perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect posture. He stood holding a man in his arms, a man with golden skin and dark hair, a man a few inches shorter than he. Wiry and firm, this man was pressed tightly against him and, except for one detail, the man was naked.

The one detail? He had a large red bow wrapped around his shoulders.

The naked man stepped back a little putting space between them, and the giant red bow slid a few inches down his bare shoulder. Automatically, Vinnie reached out to him and straightened it even as his heart-rate accelerated. Sonny raised his hand caressing the back of Vinnie’s neck. His dark eyes sparkled. His lips parted. Vinnie felt them at his mouth, slightly damp, tasting of electricity and wine and maybe even a little blood. His hand moved as if on its own to stroke Sonny’s naked hip. The bow slipped again, crushing between them.

Vinnie woke with a jolt.

For a long moment he lay in the dark, eyes wide, the dream images fading slowly. His mouth felt dry, his skin clammy, his cock hard. Between clenched teeth, one word escaped into the air. “Christ!”

This wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed such images. Including the red bow. He tried to forget about his 30th birthday, about Kiki Vanno, the man who’d murdered his cousin Danny, but his mind would not let it go. The gift of Kiki’s corpse wrapped in red ribbon was from Sonny, of course. It was the greatest and most horrific gift he’d ever received…or probably ever would receive. Although he’d asked for it, he had not quite expected what actually receiving that gift might do to his mind.

Horror was only one aspect of it.

The gifter himself, full of verve and vigor, had laughed himself to tears over the dead Kiki, then ordered other men to bury him in the ugliest spot they could find. Then he’d turned to the still horrified Vinnie, looking a bit perplexed, and offered, “Well, it’s one way to deal with grief. No way is easy.”

Vinnie had choked on his breath so hard that Sonny had to pound him on the back. Then suddenly Sonny embraced him as if changing abruptly from devil to angel, and whispered in his ear, “There. There. One less piece of garbage to litter the streets now, my friend.” And left a soft, chaste kiss on his neck.

Of course Vinnie knew nothing said ‘I love you’ better than your enemy’s head brought to you on the end of a pointy stick.

But the resultant dreams taught him that he would rather have had more of Sonny, more of that kiss instead.

*

The dream that really got him going was the one where the bow was tied around Sonny’s waist. It was all he wore but it covered too much, and Vinnie knelt on something soft, a couch cushion or pillow, and slowly undid it. It felt like ripples of water in his hands. The air was gold and blue-edged and his heart burned in his chest and his breath hitched as he watched the circles of wide, scarlet ribbon slowly unravel to reveal the yearning man underneath.

Sonny’s erection bobbed before him glistening, tan, anxious. Amazingly beautiful. He’d sucked cock before many times, but only in his dreams. In real life…never.

Now he went down on the throbbing hardness tasting a sweetness he couldn’t describe, something like crushed tulips and fresh leaves mixed with rain, like April’s breath distilled, or essence of taffy from a thousand county fairs. He sucked until the skin dissolved to nothing and he woke abruptly, sitting up in bed now, distraught, panting a bit, and extremely aroused.

It wasn’t that he’d gotten used to the dreams. They both shocked and amazed him. But the resulting hard on actually hurt and he leaned back on the fine linen pillows of his bed in the Royal Diamond suite he’d inhabited for the past six months and simply gave in. His hand moved downward, wrist brushing his swollen cock. Spikes of pleasure coursed through him. His standby default fantasy of anonymous big boobs and invitingly spread female legs leading toward moist, secret vaults of pleasure always overtook him at first as he grabbed himself and slowly stroked, but lately that scenario kept being interrupted by other insistent, more prominent images: Sonny smiling at him, Sonny reaching out to touch his back or arm, and then that ardent Sonny from his dreams all naked and aroused, whispering “that’s it, babe, do that” and damned if he could actually hear that voice, that gravelly purr that underlined it with a cadence of affection and devotion that tangled up in Vinnie’s rushing heart, invaded his fantasies. The thought of Sonny’s breath in his ear whispering more secrets transferred warmth to his cock. Then he thought of Sonny’s breath down there, could practically feel those curved lips sinking onto him and that was that. He burst so hard into orgasm he actually arched up off the bed.

The fantasy should have dissipated then but it didn’t. Even after he went into the bathroom, peed, cleaned himself up and went back to bed, the images of Sonny would not let go.

He dozed for awhile, but damn that guy…he kept smiling at him, sparkling at him, reaching out to him. Vinnie realized only too late he was now lightly humping an errant, innocent pillow. It felt so good. He reached down and touched himself, hardening more. Damn. He hadn’t been this horny since high school when he could masturbate to completion sometimes three times a night. This was getting downright ridiculous.

*

The next night he lay on the bed naked. On the ceiling was a huge mirror and he tried to look at himself except everything was blurry. Everything except one feature. His erect cock. And the red bow that adorned it.

Out of the mist of his dream, a pair of anonymous hands appeared. They touched the bow and played with the wavy ends. They caressed the bow, petted it, cupped it. The fingers ran lightly up and down the ribbons, pinching it lightly, slithering along the slick surface. Slowly, they pulled and the bow came apart. It fluttered like a long tongue against his hot skin.

A voice whispered in his mind. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.” Over and over again.

Then the dead guy was there in the bed next to him, tongue lolling black from his mouth. Vinnie choked.

When he woke the sheets were damp around him. His cock throbbed. His voice hissed into the dark room. “Fuck!”

*

The dreams would not let up. He lay on his back again, naked and alone in the mist. His penis ached it was so hard. The ribbon around it was tighter this time, and now as he became aware of it, as he saw it in his mind, the bow slowly tightened more and more until the pressure became a deep ache gathering inside his balls. The blood-hued silk undulated like a snake. Red and shining, it cut into him. There was no pain from that, only a deepening of pressure and need bordering on anguish.

He watched as his genitals swelled to huge proportions. Hands came again, tugging on the ribbon. The hands touched him now but it wasn’t enough. When he felt the mouth on him pulling, sucking it was like a relief except even that wasn’t enough. He needed more friction, more strength. He moved his hips up and down, humping, needing, hoping…

And woke again to frustration and a hard pain inside him so fierce that when he touched himself and came it was almost anti-climactic. His dream had worn him down so much that the orgasm fruited only as a faint blush, a single throb, and was done. If that didn’t beat all!

Turning angrily in the bed, fisting the pillow into a ball, he curled tight against himself and tried to go back to sleep.

Failing that, he forced himself up and into a cold shower.

*

The room swirled fuchsia, magenta, violet. There was a distant scent of pizza and he remembered he’d had one for dinner, sharing pepperoni, mushroom and three-cheese topped pie with Sonny on the couch of the suite’s living area.

They drank one and a half bottles of wine between them. In Vinnie’s nicely inebriated mind the companionship was friendly, even exciting, and therefore not at all safe. As his job required from him, he’d gained Sonny’s trust. Accompanying that trust came fast friendship that could not be denied or ignored. Friendship partnered trust. Faking friendship had been his initial goal. But Sonny was just so goddamned charming. And really, who could resist a guy whose wit and humor and personal interests matched his own, and whose eyes glowed whenever he looked him up and down? And yeah, Sonny did give him once-overs like that. Even if Sonny was unaware, Vinnie felt those gazes like feathers running up and down his skin.

He’d had a hard on half the evening. If Sonny noticed he didn’t show it. But he grinned at Vinnie often. And kept pouring the wine.

They shared stories about childhood, first girlfriends, dogs they’d loved. They compared lists of favorite movies and found more than half their picks matched. They mirrored each other in every way, including how it felt to be the youngest brother of two.

It was like finding your soul-mate in every possible right way except that it was all wrong. He was here to expose Sonny, arrest him. Not to love him.

Now the room spun and careened. It didn’t make him sick, though. The experience burst around him in lovely effervescence, being drunk, being in love. He was lying flat on his back on the couch, black-stockinged feet propped up on the back, shorts beneath smooth, dark trousers a bit constricting on his throbbing cock.

Sonny’s head came into view upside-down. “You okay?” he asked.

Vinnie chuckled.

Sonny was kneeling at the head of the couch, Vinnie realized, and his head moved closer. Vinnie could feel the warm breath on his face as Sonny said, “I like wine, women and you.”

Vinnie half-laughed again, then sobered when Sonny’s lips pressed against his forehead.

It wasn’t and it was the most erotic gesture in the world to him. His cock lurched. Suddenly his eyes burned and closed tight. Taking a risk, he reached up blindly. Sonny must have kept his eyes open because he was in Vinnie’s arms almost immediately, and that strangely ecstatic kiss landed on his lips now. Sonny’s weight settled against his body so warm and alive that Vinnie thrust up.

Sonny’s “yes” was almost all air as the word breathed into his mouth.

He could want a man with such a fever, he now realized. But not just any man. It was this man. This one man.

They kissed and floated in a blissful haze.

After awhile…who knew how long…Sonny fumbled with their clothes, taking the lead. Vinnie helped. His pants gathered at his knees. Sonny made an unintelligible exclamation and gathered Vinnie’s cock in his fist. It was so much more intense than his dreams. Infinitely better and better as Sonny licked, then sucked him. Every bit of light went out of the room.

When he could see and hear again, Sonny was caressing his face, complimenting him in the ways seasoned lovers might. This was not just fooling around then?

Delighted, Vinnie got to his knees. Sonny spread his legs so Vinnie could get between them, and Vinnie took what he had craved realizing that maybe county fair taffy was not all it was touted to be when he had this.

Just before he came, Sonny groaned in a voice rough with pure pleasure, “Oh god, oh that’s my smart guy,” and Vinnie’s skin tingled all over to hear that and then feel the contractions, taste the surge of Sonny’s power and essence and surrender to the glory of Vinnie giving him an orgasm.

That night they slept in Vinnie’s bed, but ever after it was Sonny’s bed, with Sonny curled tight around him.

The next week Sonny turned to Vinnie as they both stood in his office and said, “I have a gift for you.”

“Another one?” Vinnie asked, because all Sonny did was lavish him with presents since he’d met him.

Sonny went to a side table, opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. Another Rolex maybe? A gold tie tack? Diamond cuff links? It didn’t matter. The box was wrapped in a tiny red bow and Vinnie blushed to his toes.

Two months later he tendered his resignation to the FBI.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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